Rope dancers…have their patron saint, like other classes. St. Vitus is the object of their special invocation, and whoever has entered the walls of the cathedrals at Prague, bearing his saintly name, cannot have failed to see groups of poor and pretty girls, from various shows in the fair there, prostrated on their knees, praying no doubt for protection and aid in tumbling decently through life.
~From Blondin: His Life and Performances by G. Linnæs Banks
~From Blondin: His Life and Performances by G. Linnæs Banks
The spires of St. Vitus Cathedral, soaring up above the surrounding walls of Prague Castle, perched atop one of Prague's seven hills, are easily the most iconic landmark on the horizon here in Prague--Praha--The City of a Thousand Spires.
St. Vitus Cathedral is near and dear to my heart. As I sit here, once again in the inner courtyards of Prague castle in the shadow of the cathedral, drinking in the present sights and sounds and savoring my new favorite historical tidbit, I'm also reminiscing.
When I entered the nave of St. Vitus Cathedral for the first time in 2006, I was, I'm afraid, dead on my feet. I'd arrived in the country earlier that morning and the brief sightseeing excursion was not only an introduction to the country where I would be serving as a missionary for the next fourteen months, but also a means of ensuring I stayed awake until bedtime in my new timezone. Even through the haze of exhaustion, I appreciated the austere beauty of this old cathedral, the miraculous innovations of Gothic architecture that allowed for the first time walls of stained glass and high, open spaces.
When I brought my parents to visit nearly two years later, they too fell in love with St. Vitus--so much so that we visited twice during our all too brief stay in Prague. One of the best things I've learned from my parents--from my mother especially--is the habit of making time for just one more, "one last" look, and then savoring those moments to "make memories." In St. Vitus we did just that: lingering over the beautiful gospel art in paintings and stained glass, taking our time gazing up at the soaring vaulted stonework, meandering along the aisles and transepts as tour groups were herded past us at a pace that we pitied. The memories we made in St. Vitus are collective favorites.
A few years later in grad school, I stayed a month in Prague for intensive language training. My dormitory was at the base of Prague's other fortified hill: Vyšehrad, and near the river Vltava, which divides the city, flowing first past Vyšehrad, then on and around the hill upon which St. Vitus rises. As I studied in my dorm room in the evenings, I could see the glow of sunset beginning. Leaving my books (and the inevitably Czech fairy tale playing in the background), I would rush out and down the street to the banks of the Vltava. From there I could watch the pinks of sunset light up the sky beyond Prague castle, and, as swans bobbed below me, in the glassy depths of the river beyond me, the reflected silhouette of St. Vitus danced in the ripples.
When I first started making memories at St. Vitus Cathedral, I had yet to embark on my journey of seeking balance and I had no idea that St. Vitus had been the patron saint of rope-dancers. That fun fact found me relatively recently: the same bibliophilic shopping spree last November and December that lead to my purchasing Tightrope Poppy and Girl on a Wire, which I've already blogged about, also lead to my acquiring Blondin: His Life and Performances, circa 1862.
You can imagine my delight when, just three pages into reading, I saw that familiar name of St. Vitus, in the quote used above. While the saints aren't part of my Christian worship personally, I love the history of them and like to be able to recognize them in artwork. At the time I didn't imagine that on my next visit I would feel a much deeper connection to that short quote, an increased kindship to this place and to the rope walkers of so long ago.
Amidst the bustle of tour groups and the chatter of a dozen different languages, I've found a spot for myself to sit and think and breathe. My body is still aching a bit from the falls and exertions of my second ever highlining experience at the Girl's Only Highline Festival VI. Just seven days ago I walked my first highline, an almost perfect first attempt. I achieved so much more than I expected, and with the bustle of travel, I haven't yet found the words I want to describe the experience or the amazing girls I met.
So I'm grateful for this moment of stillness. In my head alongside the flood of old fond memories and the jostle of recent ones, I'm also imagining what St. Vitus Cathedral would have been like two or three hundred years ago, when those poor and pretty girls, the low, tight wire dancers of the traveling fairs, came here to pray to the patron saint of Bohemia, dancers, and entertainers. The progress I've achieved on this trip makes me want even more to learn to dance as well as walk, so that if ever a time machine comes my way, I'd be able to join them.
And yes, even though I only have two days in Prague, I think I'll make time to come back here tomorrow for just one more look.
St. Vitus Cathedral is near and dear to my heart. As I sit here, once again in the inner courtyards of Prague castle in the shadow of the cathedral, drinking in the present sights and sounds and savoring my new favorite historical tidbit, I'm also reminiscing.
When I entered the nave of St. Vitus Cathedral for the first time in 2006, I was, I'm afraid, dead on my feet. I'd arrived in the country earlier that morning and the brief sightseeing excursion was not only an introduction to the country where I would be serving as a missionary for the next fourteen months, but also a means of ensuring I stayed awake until bedtime in my new timezone. Even through the haze of exhaustion, I appreciated the austere beauty of this old cathedral, the miraculous innovations of Gothic architecture that allowed for the first time walls of stained glass and high, open spaces.
When I brought my parents to visit nearly two years later, they too fell in love with St. Vitus--so much so that we visited twice during our all too brief stay in Prague. One of the best things I've learned from my parents--from my mother especially--is the habit of making time for just one more, "one last" look, and then savoring those moments to "make memories." In St. Vitus we did just that: lingering over the beautiful gospel art in paintings and stained glass, taking our time gazing up at the soaring vaulted stonework, meandering along the aisles and transepts as tour groups were herded past us at a pace that we pitied. The memories we made in St. Vitus are collective favorites.
A few years later in grad school, I stayed a month in Prague for intensive language training. My dormitory was at the base of Prague's other fortified hill: Vyšehrad, and near the river Vltava, which divides the city, flowing first past Vyšehrad, then on and around the hill upon which St. Vitus rises. As I studied in my dorm room in the evenings, I could see the glow of sunset beginning. Leaving my books (and the inevitably Czech fairy tale playing in the background), I would rush out and down the street to the banks of the Vltava. From there I could watch the pinks of sunset light up the sky beyond Prague castle, and, as swans bobbed below me, in the glassy depths of the river beyond me, the reflected silhouette of St. Vitus danced in the ripples.
When I first started making memories at St. Vitus Cathedral, I had yet to embark on my journey of seeking balance and I had no idea that St. Vitus had been the patron saint of rope-dancers. That fun fact found me relatively recently: the same bibliophilic shopping spree last November and December that lead to my purchasing Tightrope Poppy and Girl on a Wire, which I've already blogged about, also lead to my acquiring Blondin: His Life and Performances, circa 1862.
You can imagine my delight when, just three pages into reading, I saw that familiar name of St. Vitus, in the quote used above. While the saints aren't part of my Christian worship personally, I love the history of them and like to be able to recognize them in artwork. At the time I didn't imagine that on my next visit I would feel a much deeper connection to that short quote, an increased kindship to this place and to the rope walkers of so long ago.
Amidst the bustle of tour groups and the chatter of a dozen different languages, I've found a spot for myself to sit and think and breathe. My body is still aching a bit from the falls and exertions of my second ever highlining experience at the Girl's Only Highline Festival VI. Just seven days ago I walked my first highline, an almost perfect first attempt. I achieved so much more than I expected, and with the bustle of travel, I haven't yet found the words I want to describe the experience or the amazing girls I met.
So I'm grateful for this moment of stillness. In my head alongside the flood of old fond memories and the jostle of recent ones, I'm also imagining what St. Vitus Cathedral would have been like two or three hundred years ago, when those poor and pretty girls, the low, tight wire dancers of the traveling fairs, came here to pray to the patron saint of Bohemia, dancers, and entertainers. The progress I've achieved on this trip makes me want even more to learn to dance as well as walk, so that if ever a time machine comes my way, I'd be able to join them.
And yes, even though I only have two days in Prague, I think I'll make time to come back here tomorrow for just one more look.
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